Habitual
Here I go generalizing, but as I see it we humans fall pretty nicely into two groups. There are the thrill-seekers, those go-as-they-please vagabonds of earth, who like change, adventure, newness. Others are content with routine and find comfort in habit – making the bed, the walk to work, eating the same bowl of salad 6 nights running - because it’s delicious (the salad, life) so why change?
I’m one of those boring habitual people. Unsurprisingly, as I came here today to declare my love for brussels sprouts, I realized I had already done so last winter, as I probably do every year. The story goes that brussels sprouts usually appear first at Thanksgiving dinner, boiled on my Gran’s table. She without fail overcooks them, and they turn a distinctive shade of puce (but are delicious nonetheless). They keep appearing, stowaways in my grocery basket, until mid-December or so when their season ends. Boiling is just fine, and I’ve made Molly’s cream-braised variety to a collective sigh of appreciation, but most of the time, habitually, I roast. You’ll find me tucked into the couch, bowl in my lap, munching happily.
And that’s the thing.
One of my most-loved poets, Mary Oliver, wrote my most-loved poem, The Summer Day. I find myself reciting her lines over in my head lately, again and again. I’ve always liked the poem, how it vaults the everyday to the extraordinary, how she writes of being idle and blessed and without answers. And at the end, how she asks me what I will do, with my wild and precious life.
It’s nice to romanticize my faults and poke gentle fun, couch shortcomings in pretty words, but the truth is: sometimes I worry. I worry that my aversion to change, my love of stability and this simple, contended life holds me back from everything else. In introspective times, I wonder if years of gentle contentedness lead to great unhappiness. I see people glaze-eyed and anywhere-but-here in the streets, and I fear the day that I don’t greet the squirrels and breath sweet air deep and feel joy in the constant, my ordinary life.
Then I think that I might jump. Higher, toward something else. And what then?
[photo via]
RYC: Maria THANK YOU! You took my breath away and broke me down. Thank you so so so much! You are SUCH a special girl!
Now you: you are by far one of my favourite writers on here. I love your style and I love your artistic personality. I think as humans we are by nature always striving for higher and better. That is a good thing.
Thank you again from the bottom of my heart
Hi there,
I just came across your blog from Angie All The Way’s site. I love how you write, it makes me smile, and the brussels sprouts look so delicious!
Thanks and Take Care,
Jenny
oh what a beautiful post today!
1. i love brussel sprouts, but i was late in the game to this vegetable. i like mine sauteed in butter and garlic. a bowl to myself also makes me smile in content.
2. there is nothing wrong with being a person of habit, it’s the habit of living. i am capable of eating leftovers for a week without complaint, i listen to the same song over and over until the next fave song comes along and you know what? it’s not mundane to me because most of the time it’s like a new experience. hokey i know.
i would never dream of telling you what to do but don’t worry about what will happen later, be content in the Now. because later will be now anyway and Now you’re content.
I was JUST last night thinking about the dailiness of life and routine and how I love/hate it. And I had this thought: you know in novels, stories, books, there’s always this simple narrative stuff like “and then we were in school for a year” or “we drove to the house” or “we were together for seven months” and you sort of breeze past those parts because there isn’t more detail given. Well, I was thinking about how moment-by-moment those bits really would be in actual living, how “seven months” would be made up of sleeping and eating and conversations and days spent hunkered down at home, with a bowl of cereal or a couple cookies or, you know, a bowl of your favorite Brussels sprouts. I guess what i am saying is that is what life is: it is daily, it is moments, it is now. It is routine and seemingly ordinary, sometimes even nothing “special” but those moments are NOT NOTHING. Lan is so right that later will be now anyway, and now you’re content, so enjoy it. (Love that, Lan, btw) Anyway, enjoyed this post very much and will be thinking about it.
Mary Oliver is my favourite poet, too. I think her poem, ‘Wild Geese’ resonates with your post here also, no? … http://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/geese/geese.html
[...] Habitual (October) Here I go generalizing, but as I see it we humans fall pretty nicely into two groups. [...]